


Pride and Prejudice

by nikki_routed



Category: JYJ (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2142276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikki_routed/pseuds/nikki_routed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no such thing as love at first sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride and Prejudice

**Author's Note:**

> So many people to thank this time!
> 
> Thanks and apologies to Boonies’ Anon who requested pianist!chun on her tumblr several months ago. ANON, I’M SO SORRY, I KNOW I’M NOT BOONIES BUT this prompt walked up to me while cosplaying Jaechun and whispered seductively we’re perfect /curls into a ball and rolls away
> 
> To Boonies for letting me steal the prompt, my awesomest of betas Cheryl & Kate, and finally, Jaejoong for his recent interviews which changed a vital scene lol

 

 

 

Yoochun steps out of his car, blinking at the hordes of women on either side of the flimsy barricade. Granted, he doesn't make many TV appearances and knows very little about the excitement surrounding day-time talk shows, but this seems a _tad_ excessive.

The crowd - mainly teenagers, he notes - is ignoring him but a few aim cell phones and click in desultory fashion.

"Is that an oppa?" someone stage-whispers.

Yoochun has no idea either; he needs a lot more context.

A harried assistant makes his way down to the side-walk, greeting Yoochun and Junsu with strained smiles, then ushering them inside the building as he talks pointedly over scattered demands of "Why can't oppa get his own segment?" and some "Can't you make it a twenty-four hour special instead?" from the sidelines.

"Oppa?" Yoochun questions, once the assistant has shoved them inside a make-up room and disappeared.

"Now look, Yoochun," Junsu says in his best manager voice, "this is a great way to get exposure."

Yoochun narrows his eyes. "Whenever you say that, it doesn't end well."

"The other guest is a rock star," Junsu tells him with semi-caution. "The meeting of two musical extremes or some such thing. Anyway," he sends Yoochun a look, "it's _very_ good exposure, so please be a grown-up."

Yoochun can't even make his face not scrunch up. "Who is this rock guy?" he asks, displeased.

"Kim Jaejoong? He used to be a pop idol, I think-"

"An idol?!" It comes out aghast. "I've been invited to talk music with a former idol? Is this some joke?"

Junsu shoots him another look. "Doesn't matter, because you're going to be talking about your upcoming performance to the general public who isn't generally into classical music, so."

Yoochun doesn't think there's any _So_ about this. It's a farce. In fact, it's almost offensive.

As if idols knew anything about music.

 

 

 

Jaejoong squints at YiHan from his side of the Bentley. "Who?"

"Park someone. He plays the piano."

Jaejoong tries to figure out why this is important. How does a piano-playing Park Someone fit in the grand scheme against his King of Rock status?

"...Is that...Is he one of those people from the street with a hooked hand?"

Because then yes, it makes sense, networks are always big on human interest stories.

YiHan pauses. "...I'm not sure but just to be safe, don't stare."

"Of course I won't, when have I ever?" Jaejoong's tone is lofty.

YiHan just looks at him.

"That wasn't my fault! _Anyone_ would have thought she was pregnant! With twins!"

"Just don't stare," YiHan orders, part-hopelessly.

Jaejoong glowers. "Maybe he's a ten-year-old child prodigy and it's okay to stare! You ever thought of that?"

YiHan pretends not to hear him, which is something he does a lot for someone whose salary Jaejoong pays, and whatever.

He will show up, be awesome, sign this kid's arm and thrill him or something, then leave.

He has a new album in the works that needs his focus.

 

 

 

Yoochun broods, dreading the thought of some entitled, egoistic 'idol' who can't play a single instrument but thinks he ~knows music.

"I bet he's nineteen," Yoochun announces to the ceiling like someone died. "He's going to be nineteen and a flower boy and we're going to talk about dating scandals the entire time."

"As long as you somehow work in Thursday night's performance," Junsu says absently, scrolling through his phone.

"When's a good time?” Yoochun asks sarcastically. “Right after 'she's just a friend?'"

"And right before 'he's just a band member,'" Junsu grins.

Yoochun smothers a laugh. "How long do you give it before he mentions his tough trainee days?"

"I'll try not to bore you with details of my audition," a silky voice says from behind.

Startled, both men spin around.

There's a...rock star...leaning against the door-way. Yoochun doesn't think there’s a better description for all that leather and arrogance and bleached hair and peek-a-boo tattoos.

Beneath the smudged mascara though, is definitely a flower boy-turned-man.

Embarrassed at being caught breaching social etiquette, Yoochun forgets to bow. "I didn't mean to offend-"

"No?" Mr. Rock-Star drawls, before giving a shrug. "Promise not to talk about how classical music is _actually_ accessible to the masses and we should be even." Straightening, he gives Yoochun a slow, contemptuous once-over and adds, "Oh, and nice threads."

Yoochun opens his mouth to explain that he was partly joking, he was born somewhat of a troll, that it isn't personal, he's sorry and maybe they can play nice for the one hour their lives will intersect in front of the cameras and that, hello, this is a perfectly nice suit, it looks formal, it looks professional, it looks _clean,_ which is more than can be said for those jeans, and don't know if anyone's noticed, but there is entirely too much thigh on view through those rips AND CLASSICAL MUSIC _IS_ ACCESSIBLE TO THE MASSES -

Only the assistant walks back in just then, looking relieved to see the newcomer, and herds them down the corridor and out on the live set, firing off instructions and blithely unaware of the sub-zero chill in the air.

 

 

 

Fuming, Jaejoong glares daggers at the back of one Park 'Yoochun-sshi.' No hooked limbs anywhere, but one hell of a condescending attitude.

What the actual hell. He's _sick_ of this prejudice towards idols, especially from pompous stick-in-the-muds who think they are so much better because they are trained in classical music. Like one type of music is superior to some other kind, like idols have their success handed to them on a platter, like he hasn't had to give sweat and blood and tears to this industry to get to where he is, BULLSHI-

"You look murderous, stop it," YiHan whispers.

"I _feel_ murderous," Jaejoong hisses back.

They can hear the female host announcing the very special guests they have in the studio today, so there isn't time for YiHan to do more than give him a warning glance. _Behave_.

Bullshit.

Park Yoochun is about to get a lesson in how Jaejoong earned the title of Bad Boy of Rock.

Someone shoves them through the curtain and together they walk on to the live set, to a roar of applause from the audience that's almost all aimed at Jaejoong, though Yoochun seems none too bothered. Their host launches into an introduction about them and Jaejoong hides a frown as he listens, because apparently Mr. Snooty has done some things, some pretty big things.

But still.

"So," the host says with a bright smile. "Is this Yoochun-sshi and Jaejoong-sshi's first meeting?"

"Yes," Jaejoong says with heavy irony. "We have not had the pleasure."

Oblivious to undercurrents, she laughs. "I guess a better question would be if you're aware of each other's music."

"Well, the industry is very large and we tend to inhabit different worlds," Yoochun smiles diplomatically.

"Ah, the classical and popular genres seldom mix."

“Though I don't know why,” Jaejoong offers. "I think both have so much to teach each other."

"True," Yoochun agrees, all politeness, and Jaejoong can barely keep from rolling his eyes.

The hypocrite.

“What have you learnt from pop then?” he challenges.

“Err,” Yoochun fumbles, stumped.

Jaejoong tsks smilingly. “I think Yoochun-sshi has been neglecting part of his musical education.”

The audience roars in appreciation.

 

 

 

Yoochun colors. He just knows this is going to be one of those scenes the producers will caption the hell out of but he smiles anyway, determined to stay pleasant.

The host gives him a sympathetic grin. “Tell us what classical music has taught you instead.”

Feeling more in his element, Yoochun barely pauses to think. “Definitely about discipline and total dedication. When you’re-“

“Not much different from other genres then,” Jaejoong interrupts, borderline rude. “After all, success in _any_ profession is impossible without discipline and dedication.”

See, Yoochun can make allowances -  up to a certain point.

As first impressions go, his was disastrous by anyone’s standards, but he has apologized, there is not much more he can do right then to remedy things and Jaejoong needs to stop being so blatant about his dislike. Before Yoochun remembers he has zero patience for idols to begin with.

The host’s head is swiveling confusedly between the two, so he ignores him and soldiers on. “When you consider interpretation-“

“Oh right, _interpretation_.” Jaejoong waves a hand. “Again, not something unique to classical music alone. Pop artists have to interpret as many as sixteen songs every time an album comes out too, you know.  And _we_ don't get years to practice a piece, getting the interpretation right. Our schedules are far too intense for that."

Looking torn between wanting peace on set and killer ratings, the host says slowly, “So, are you saying popular music is harder, Jaejoong-sshi?"

"I'm _saying,_ " Jaejoong corrects sweetly, "popular music doesn't get enough credit, idols even less so. There’s so much going on even apart from the music. We have to remember the choreography of all the different dances, work constantly on the stamina to sing and dance at the same time.” He gives a deep sigh. "It's all such a challenge. In fact, I quite envy Yoochun-sshi. We even work in far less controlled environments, like open air stages for example, where the acoustics are harder to predict."

Okay. So. Yes, Yoochun’s willing to make allowances but -

Was this pop gawd-help-us trying to imply classical music wasn't 'challenging'?

When everyone knew idols were just a groomed product, fully grown on a farm and made to fit the same cookie cutter mold as everyone else.

And _no_ idol was going to have the last word on a music debate with him.

With deliberate innocence, Yoochun asks, "Doesn't the lip-syncing help?"

The studio erupts in chaos.

 

 

 

"Who the hell is this…this…?!" Incoherent with fury, Jaejoong storms out into the parking lot. "Bring me every damn thing he's ever done," he orders YiHan, who is clutching his hair and moaning.

What he really wants is Yoochun’s head on a platter, but that will mean even more overtime for his PR team after this show.

 

 

 

"When I said exposure..." Junsu says bitterly, sliding into the car.

"Don't blame this one all on me, you were there," Yoochun tells him, face grim, fists clenched at his sides. "And get me this wanna-be's entire discography."

 

 

 

"I need a ticket," Jaejoong blurts, tightening his hold on the phone, skin buzzing like he’s downed all the available coffee in his store.

"What?" YiHan's voice is groggy with sleep.

"A ticket! For Thursday!"

"Jaejoong?"

"YiHan! Of course it's me! Now wake up!"

"It's 3:14 in the morning, are you out of your mind?!" His voice is far-off and muffled, like it's coming from under a pillow, and entirely full of disbelief.

"YiHan, you don't understand. I need a ticket."

He needs a ticket because no-one can play like that for real.

Any introduction to musical brilliance Jaejoong has ever had comes from pictures of dead old men in books, through a retelling of musical history via media. That it lives and breathes in Seoul, packaged in stupid prejudices and cutting sarcasm, seems like an elaborate joke by the cosmos. Or a downright lie.

No, it has to be acoustics, enhancement, any number of studio parlor tricks that gives the music its depth and passion and richness and _soul_.

Jaejoong is no industry novice, he knows what technology and software can achieve in and outside of a recording studio, and if he watches Yoochun perform live just once, he can dismiss the false illusion of perfection. He can stop feeling like he's run out of air.

"Please, YiHan."

 

 

 

"We're up to twenty death threats from rabid fangirls this morning, I hope you're satisfi-" Junsu breaks off mid-tirade, to take stock of Yoochun as he sits on the floor, eyes red from staring at the laptop, ipod in hand, open disc covers everywhere.

"Junsu," Yoochun says hoarsely. "Junsu, come here."

"Stupid question, but did you sleep at all?" Rather obligingly, considering his sour mood, Junsu moves to sit next to him. Winces as Yoochun transfers the headphones from his ears to Junsu’s and creates a horrible tangle of wires.

"So I take it he's good?" he mutters, trying to free a wrist.

"Fuck," Yoochun breathes.

 

 

 

What others may consider ego, Yoochun thinks of as a healthy sense of pride in his profession. Which means he can admit when he's made a colossal mistake.

Because Kim Jaejoong defies stereotypes.

He can sing. And make music. And write songs. Lots of songs apparently.

He also forgets his own damned lyrics all the damned time, so ha!

Agitated, Yoochun runs a hand through his hair, feeling decidedly keyed up and not because it’s one more day to his performance.  
Which he totally needs to focus on, for more reasons than to get back into his manager’s good books.

What he _doesn’t_ need is to be spending every spare minute from rehearsals staring at his phone, watching grainy fancams on youtube like a…like a… _fan_.

The stage is a hive of activity, and the sound person is telling him something he should probably be paying attention to, if Junsu’s look of concentration is anything to go by, but all Yoochun can do is wonder why entertainment companies won't release concert DVDs a whole year after the album tour.

And sort of really, really wishing he could go back and fix the things Jaejoong overheard in that dressing room.

 

 

 

Jaejoong had hoped to avoid detection, sneaking into Seoul Arts Center on Thursday just a few seconds before the performance started and exiting during the thunderous applause, but apparently it's a slow news day and the Dispatch crew hanging around look delighted to see him.

"So what did you think?' one of them asks craftily, holding a pen and pad to Jaejoong's face, because he knows a good by-line opportunity when he sees it.

"Quite the experience." Jaejoong uses his public smile, then ducks into his car to escape more questions.

It's the truth.

His insides feel different, changed in a way he can't put in words. Even the videos and audios he'd pored obsessively over for the past three days had not remotely prepared him for Park Yoochun live. He can still feel the effects of it, tingles and aftershocks running beneath his skin, inside his veins.

He gnaws on his lip, filled with a sudden restless energy. Starts five new songs that night and forgets to party at the end of it.

 

 

 

"I'm just trying to understand," Yoochun explains to Junsu, pretty reasonably, he thinks, "why a concert DVD should take so long to make. I mean, it's been eight months since his last live-"

His best friend smacks him in the face with a rolled-up newspaper, letting go once it's made loud, painful contact.

"Why don't you ask him the next time he attends one of your performances?" he suggests dryly.

"What?" Yoochun's fingers turn clumsy, just as if he's not built his entire reputation by them.

 

 

 

**_SPOTTED: KIM JAEJOONG AT PARK YOOCHUN'S PERFORMANCE_ **

_After an acrimonious first meeting, have the genius pianist and bad boy of rock overcome their differences to form an unusual friendship? Or was Monday's show all a carefully engineered publicity stunt from the start?_

 

 

Impatient, Yoochun skips the rest of that passage, eyes zeroing on the bit within quotation marks.

 

 

 

_"Quite the experience," Kim Jaejoong stated when asked his opinion, declining further comment. Sources noted his complete absence back-stage. Nor was he present during the after-party._

 

 

Yoochun lowers the paper, then sits in silence for several minutes.

"That...was...rather polite of him. I should say something. I mean, shouldn't I? I mean, it's in the papers. It would be weird if I didn't...say something. Wouldn't it?"

"As long as you don't say anything that will get you in the papers again," Junsu warns.

So Yoochun orders flowers. Something small and simple. White tulips, because they are nothing like the man and everything like his songs.

"Is there a message?" some teenager asks over the phone, voice bored and mechanical.

"Um…" Yoochun pauses. "Er...No, no message. Wait! Uh. 'I hope I didn't put you to sleep,'" he blurts.

There. Extended - One olive branch.

 

 

 

Jaejoong points an accusing finger at the flowers on the mantle. "Can you believe this guy? What, I'm too much of a hick pop idol to stay awake during a classical performance?"

"Maybe he didn't mean it that way," Yihan offers, bent over his appointment book, frown in place.

"Oh yes, he did!" Jaejoong fumes. "Stuck-up ass." He taps his foot, a loud, furious rhythm against the floor. "I'll show him."

"You do that," Yihan murmurs, squinting at all the scribbled notes in the margins.

"I'm going to invite him to a studio recording!" Jaejoong marches into his bedroom.

"...Right," Yihan blinks. "That'll teach him."

 

 

 

Warily Yoochun re-reads the note attached to the bottle of expensive wine.

_Thank you for the flowers. I'm going to be recording at the studio in two days, if you are in the area. And if you think YOU won't fall asleep._

"Does this note sound mad to you?"

"I detect _some_ annoyance."

"Why?" Yoochun asks, with genuine bewilderment. "I sent flowers! I said I hoped he enjoyed the performance."

Junsu resists pointing out that when it comes to Jaejoong, all Yoochun has ever done is open mouth, insert foot.

The pianist must read something of his thoughts though, because he gets simultaneously gloomy and sulky.

"Well, I can clear things up in person when I visit the studio."

"Not that you listen to a word I say,” Junsu grumbles, “but try not to kill each-other."

 

 

 

Except for a few – ok fine, several – instances of giggling, Jaejoong has been a total professional the entire session. He can’t help that the mic has managed to bop him on the head twice, these things can happen to anyone.

So he fails to understand why YiHan is suddenly giving him that look he gives when he’s trying to convey something significant, all discrete head tilt and slowly widening eyes.

It is super annoying because the meaning of that look ranges from ‘You have spinach stuck in your teeth, stop smiling at the camera’ to ‘I can’t believe you thought she was pregnant,’ so how Jaejoong is expected to understand anything is more than he can say!

A little fed-up, he just snarls at YiHan through the glass separator and yells, “What?”

And _then_ YiHan looks at him like Life has disappointed him on every level, so Jaejoong resolves to ignore him for the rest of the day.

Everything becomes clear however, when he finishes recording and steps outside the booth to see Park Yoochun standing by the wall amongst the staff.

Jaejoong freezes, horribly conscious of his ratty hoodie, and the fact that a classical snob he’s fallen in awe with may or may not have watched him sing an impromptu song about YiHan’s future bald spot.

What was Park Yoochun doing in his studio?

Sure, he _had_ sent the man an invitation, but he had also expected to be ignored.

He certainly hadn’t expected that someone with so much contempt for the idol world would have willingly made time to come watch him work.

“I enjoyed your recording, thank you for inviting me,” Yoochun says earnestly as he makes his way over, ending with a deep bow.

More than a little suspicious, Jaejoong searches his face for any trace of sarcasm but there is none. In fact, Yoochun looks rather hesitant. And quite, quite sincere.

It’s such a change from their last encounter, several seconds go by before Jaejoong can respond. “Thank you for coming. And for the flowers.”

“Thank you for attending my performance the other night.”

“Not at all, it was really good.”

There’s an awkward pause and Jaejoong has no idea what to say next.

Luckily, YiHan walks up with a ‘Jaejoong hasn’t eaten since morning, why don’t the two of you grab lunch?’

Jaejoong throws Yoochun a doubtful glance, surprised when the other man accepts easily.

It’s entirely probable he is doing this for PR-related reasons. Jaejoong has no idea if public backlash from scandals affects careers in the classical world the way it does in the idol world. And he doesn’t care.

Because maybe, just maybe, his invitation had been motivated by more than just a desire to put the pianist in his place.

There is the vague possibility he had secretly been looking to impress Yoochun.

“I’ll have to make a quick stop at home first to get changed,” he warns. “I’m all sweaty.”

“No problem. I don’t have anything important scheduled for today, so take your time.”

It’s odd to make such polite conversation with someone he’s gone head-to-head with, on national TV no less, and odder still to be riding home with them.

Oddest yet to be enjoying himself so much.

He has no clue why it is so important that Yoochun acknowledge him. He doesn’t need validation. He’s an established musician, his sales speak for themselves, he garners tremendous respect in the same industry he started as a nobody in.

And yet, sitting in his car, the gradual realization that Yoochun is just as interested in him as he is in Yoochun, that his views and opinions are not being brushed aside, that Yoochun may finally see him as an _equal,_ brings a glow he cannot deny.

 

 

 

So far nothing has proceeded according to plan and Yoochun couldn’t be happier.

The most he had hoped for was a chance to mend fences over a drink or two. He had never even considered that Jaejoong would invite him home.

…while he takes a shower…

…which Yoochun is definitely not thinking about.

He wanders around the living room, trying to take in as much as he can without any actual invasion of privacy.  The baffling artwork tells him nothing but the book-shelf crammed to its limits and the CD racks tastefully arranged in the corner provide a few good insights before he hears the shower turn off.

“Wouldn’t you rather eat inside?” Jaejoong hints when he walks out in a pair of low-lying sweatpants and worn cotton t-shirt and as he’s clearly not dressed to go out anywhere, the correct answer obviously is yes.

“People can just…be too much sometimes, you know? When you’re tired.” He looks part defensive as he says it, and Yoochun _does_ know actually, he knows that feeling exactly.

“I’ll rustle us something. I cook,” he adds with pride and Yoochun knows that too. From fancams, an embarrassing detail he won’t bring up ever.

Lunch stretches to two, then three hours, as they eat their way through some amazing pasta and take turns playing different music from Jaejoong’s CD collection while analyzing its merits and flaws.

It all feels a little unreal to Yoochun, to be honest. This is the first he has met someone who _gets_ him like even his closest friends do not.

And to think it’s _Jaejoong_. Pop-turned-rock ex-idol chef extraordinaire with a penchant for over-sized animal decor.

As if reading his mind, Jaejoong points a CD case at him. “How weird is it that we hate each other but can also finish each-other’s sentences?”

It is a breezy statement but Yoochun shifts in guilt. “I don’t hate you…” he fumbles, worried.

“Oh,” Jaejoong laughs, pausing awkwardly. “I didn’t mean…Um…” He trails off, but almost immediately recovers enough to tease, “Admit it. You did a little.”

“Welllllll…maybe when you said classical music wasn’t challenging,” Yoochun mock-frowns.

Jaejoong snorts. “After you essentially implied idols were useless!”

“I really am sorry,” Yoochun says seriously. “I was wrong about that and I was wrong about you.”

There’s something delightful about watching Jaejoong turn different shades of red.

“Forgiven,” the other mutters, quickly adding, “I didn’t behave too well myself. Anyway, I’m glad we were able to put this behind us.” He sends Yoochun a wide smile. “Because, I have to say, this is nice.”

“It is,” Yoochun says after a moment, and has no idea why his voice sounds all low and rough like that.

When Jaejoong continues to grin at him, he raises an eye-brow. The other man lets out a laugh.

“And you should probably know there’s cat hair from the couch all over your head.”

“So you just weren’t going to mention it? Let me walk out of here like that?”

“If I answer that, I’ll have to apologize.” Jaejoong gives him a wicked grin, then stretches out a hand to brush gently at his hair.

He neither lingers nor hurries, the touch is almost casual, mostly friendly, which is why it is a terrible idea for Yoochun to grab his wrist as the hand drops.

A corner of his brain is screaming how terrible this terrible idea is – right up until he feels Jaejoong’s pulse kick strongly beneath his fingers and then Yoochun somehow just can’t let go.

He takes a minute to confirm it is not fear, before tugging on the hand.

Because he has _totally_ been thinking of Jaejoong in the shower.

It’s not his fault. All those damned youtube comments, wondering if oppa’s lips were really as soft as they looked or if his skin was really that smooth! Left to himself, he probably would never even have _noticed_ how often Jaejoong licked his lips or how much that bare chest reminded him of marble!

Yoochun had ONLY gone there for the music.

…Probably.

They _are_ very soft, and it _is_ very smooth, but there is no room in Yoochun’s head for youtube comments, only white noise.

At some point, Jaejoong leans back to pant harshly “What are we doing?” but his fingers are tightly gripping Yoochun’s hair which is not a ‘Stop’ so Yoochun just mumbles a dazed ‘Apologizing,’ and yanks him back for more.

He doesn't mean for it to escalate that much or that quickly, but Jaejoong feels too good and smells too good and is pushing into the kiss so good and making all the right encouraging sounds and the couch is really uncomfortable and somehow they find themselves in the bedroom, hot and desperate and so full of wanting, Yoochun thinks he will die if he can’t have this.

And he learns white noise can be music.

 

 

 

One second Yoochun is sleeping peacefully and the next, he's watching Junsu get purple in the face and making incoherent noises.

Face burning, he tugs the covers more completely over himself, aware of Jaejoong slowly coming awake beside him and YiHan carefully keeping his eyes on the painting above their heads.

“Tried to stop him but he insisted I bring him here…” YiHan gives an apologetic cough.

“You knew?” Junsu gasps.

“…You didn’t?” YiHan asks gently.

Yoochun eyes him, confused. Junsu does a speeded-up, edgy version of some exotic bird's mating dance.

"If I did, do you think I'd have let this happen without a trail of ten unmarked cars?" he roars.

Yoochun flinches as his manager’s attention turns to him.

"I came to check if you had killed each other," he rages, "and find this! You two do realize you've got all of Weibo and Twitter taking sides in a music war YOU started and here you are-" Running out of words that adequately express his feelings, he make futile gestures in the air.

"It just happened," Yoochun mumbles guiltily.

"Just happened?! How the HELL does sex _just happen_? Did he just _fall_ on your dick?" He pauses. "Or did you fall on his dick? _Don’t answer that_.” His tone is both fierce and panicked and he takes a few deep breaths before he continues. "And if you think I’m being paid enough to run around covering your tracks, let me correct -"

"Oh relax," Jaejoong snaps, by now sitting with his knees drawn up, sheets tight around his waist, and glaring at Junsu. The famous temper is back, leaving no evidence of the sleep-rumpled man of two minutes ago. "Your precious ward is safe. One fuck does not a relationship make."

Yoochun's head whips around, entire body going into protest. "This was just a fuck?"

Tense, Jaejoong's fingers curl into the sheets. "Like, for you," he mumbles, staring at something on the floor.

Now Yoochun belatedly remembers why this idea, though wonderful in execution, is terrible in theory. He knows his actions from Jaejoong’s point of view have been totally unpredictable and the other man can’t be blamed for thinking it was all an impulse.

It isn’t. He would like many, many afternoons – and mornings and nights – like this in their future and he needs to know if Jaejoong would like that too.

He sure doesn’t need the audience though.

On cue, YiHan wraps a gentle hand around Junsu’s arm. "Ok then. We should let them dress and talk."

"The scandal if it got out," Junsu moans, letting himself be led towards the door and out where he hopes there's lots of scope for denial.

"They’ll just think it’s another publicity stunt,” YiHan tells him encouragingly.

"…Oh," Junsu says, sounding marginally brighter as the door closes behind them.

Yoochun looks over at where Jaejoong is now nervously smoothing the sheets.

He could stand to have something to do with his hands too.

"It’s probably too soon for a talk," he starts, mouth dry, wondering if this is going to evolve into one anyway.

"Yeah, probably," Jaejoong mutters at his knees.

"And we probably should never do TV shows together."

There’s a loud snort. “Probably.”

“And I probably owe you more apologies for...” He waves awkwardly at the door.

Jaejoong grins. Yoochun tries not to turn a bright red.

“Apology flowers!” he corrects.

“It's alright, I like your apologies,” Jaejoong teases.

Which is a good sign, Yoochun concedes, but the ‘one fuck relationship’ statement is still too recent for comfort.

Full of nerves, he hooks a finger around Jaejoong's toe where it’s peeking from under the covers. "And probably we should remember to lock Junsu out of bedrooms when I come over."

Jaejoong's mouth turns up at the corners. "Probably?" he asks archly, letting Yoochun use his foot to tug him closer.

Yoochun clears his throat. "Definitely," he amends. "The rest....we can figure out as we go?"

Even though Jaejoong slides into his arms without demur, his heart feels like it's going to collapse onto itself as he waits for an answer.

"Definitely," Jaejoong breathes into his lips.

Yoochun thinks it could be his new favorite word.

 

 

 

 


End file.
